


we need to bridge burn

by ghostwit



Series: (possibilities) to not be alone [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: AU in which Law leaves Minion Island w/ Drake and becomes a marine., Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Fer Law., Gen, Hurt/Comfort, That's all I can think of actually LOL., WOoo more brothers stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit
Summary: Drake is twenty-five when he becomes captain of SWORD.Law is nineteen when he tells Drake about Cora-san.
Relationships: Trafalgar D. Water Law & X Drake
Series: (possibilities) to not be alone [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683994
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	we need to bridge burn

Drake is twenty-five years old, far too old to be playing around with the man gripping the arms of the white coat slung around his shoulders, tugging them so he can feel their pull in the gap between his arms and his sides.

Law is nineteen--not even old enough to be sipping the ale they hunch, laughing and landing firm punches to each other's biceps, over on cold nights--when he tells Drake about Cora-san.

They'd been brawling for days before, a portion of rail lost to the sea with an ill-placed  _ takto  _ and the sweep of Drake's tail, Kikoku tapping hard against his shoulder as he sits in the galley, hunched over a meal, or in the middle of the night, bladepoint to his throat and Law's chest heaving. 

It's mid-day when Law comes stumbling into Drake's quarters, bleary eyed and heavy soled, tattooed hands blindly reaching for the fabric of Drake's coat.

“Do you,” Law says, grave and low, “want to know what happened that day?” Drake knows what he’s talking about instantly, sees the wailing thirteen year old boy trekking hard-set on wobbly ankles. He turns away from Law’s grimace. 

“I know damn well what happened that day. I decided to prove my father wrong.” Drake grits out, words hissing hot between his teeth. Law's eyes widen, breath coming fast on a hard exhale through his nose.

Drake loops an arm around Law's shoulder, lets Law's fingers move to curl up into the fabric of his shirt. The other hand moves easily to grip Law's hat, dropping it back to fall from his head and press into the younger's back. Law grimaces, teeth burying into his lip, and Drake buries his face into Law's hair, clean and soft where it brushes against his cheek, nose, lips. 

"He was a marine," Law croaks,  _ angry _ , and Drake's not surprised, having pieced together enough from the kid’s fitful thrashing, the pleading and accusations in his sleep he’d default to on cold nights, the angry musings into the pillow when he thought that Drake had been out cold. Law mumbles some more, right into Drake's chest, and he can feel the words vibrate against him. 

His head draws back, sudden and sharp.

"I hope you know"--he's hissing, every word slick and blackened with venom as it leaves his teeth, anger is the only thing he knows--"that your father isn't fucking here." And then, quietly, "I am." 

Suddenly, Drake feels too large, too clumsy around him as they embrace (he's not sobbing into his hair, at the very least, all wet tears and barely-suppressed sniffles that there would be no way Law couldn't take notice of). Law's chest goes tight, cold, and he rakes his nails, pulsing with heat with the force of it, down the outside of Drake's forearms until they strike against the rough of scales, bringing a little feral snarl out of the pit of Drake's gut where his Zoan sits. 

He scrambles out of their embrace, Drake's fingers still gripping his hat, gentle as fingernails lengthen, just barely, into claws. 

"That's it? Are you shutting down on me?" Drake snaps, wounded at the withdrawal, the way Law's turned heel and steps towards the doorway. He's not lost his streak of petulance, especially with the little brat that he feels so inexplicably accountable for.

"I…" What right does Law have to ask anything of Drake? His arms draw up to grip his own shoulder's white-knuckled, pulling and pulling on the fragile arch of his ribcage until it aches and creaks when he folds in on himself. He rests his forehead on the edge of the door, splotched, burning skin on wooden molding on steel walls.

"Do you want this?" Law asks, setting his chin on his shoulder to look back at the older marine, now fully human, the rumble of the Ryu Ryu no Mi settled, Law's hat held gingerly over his chest and coat fluttering soft behind him with the open porthole in the ship's wall. 

Drake swats aside the quip that nearly forces itself to his lips, "I do." He takes a step back, swivels the wooden chair behind him until he can sit fully in it. "Tell me about your father." 

Law sighs resignedly, tipping off into an annoyed groan to smother the happy pang at the respect in the way Drake says "father", a word usually soaked in contempt when passing his lips, resounding clear in his thoracic cavity, turned back around to slump fully into the wall. "If you cry, I'll kick your ass," he mutters, straightening. He runs a hand over his own scalp, just enough nail to soothe. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiles with the corner of his mouth when he speaks, nothing like Cora-san's broad grin, hair that used to flop over his forehead and obscure his vision cut neat and gelled straight. He's fond of this, too, as reluctant as he is to admit it as he moves to sit on the rear commander's bed.  _ I won't take another man's life. Let him have his dream. _

Law breathes in slow through his nose and brings his tattooed forearms up to cover his head, his eyes, missing the familiar weight of his hat from where it spins absently in Drake's hands; He begins at Flevance. 

Drake is a pirate. He thinks his father would laugh at the thought, gaily chuck a bottle at the man for it to smash against his feet and send glass skittering.

He crouches by the sea as the Liberal Hind stands proud behind him, tealight cupped in his hands close enough to redden the palms. His cape is black where it flutters behind him, bicorn snug on his head, and his boots click and creak when he crouches on the dock. "Donquixote Rosinante." he mutters, brushes his thumb through the flame so he can feel a flash of pain over the sensitive skin of his finger pad, "Marine code 01746. Thank you." He sets the candle to drift.

**Author's Note:**

> LOL I WRECKED MY UPLOAD SCHEDULE. You can tell I wrote this mostly mobile, too, because the paragraphs are really small compared to my other stuff. I might try to do that more often, actually.
> 
> Not really good at stuff like this but I Do Be Writing Doe! Sorry if it feels OOC, I'm just trying to think about how different they'd be if they grew up together and got close like that, y'know (though I guess Drake was already an adult, lol)? Big bro time. 
> 
> Also, thinking about how Law thinks of Cora's sacrifice as "throwing his life away for him" T_T hurtsjustalittle.jpg
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed or anything TT I really appreciate them!
> 
> hazeism.tumblr.com


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